


Clear as a Winter Night

by MooncatEclipse (Wolfgrowl)



Series: Couerl Got your Tongue [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alphinaud is a cock block, Francel is a good bro, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-19 22:38:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19365250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfgrowl/pseuds/MooncatEclipse
Summary: Francel is very grateful to Haurchefant and the Warrior of Light, one Nijoh'ir Jesyho, for saving his life. So he does what any best friend would do in that situation.Makes the best of it and tries to wingman.





	Clear as a Winter Night

**Author's Note:**

> Francel is a good friend and we should put him in fics more.

They're all still riding the adrenaline high, Francel still cannot believe he not only saw a dragon but has been cleared of all charges, and the famed Nijoh'ir is practically bouncing through the snow, babbling to Haurchefant. Francel smiles as he listens.

"-and then you rode in and I'll be honest I kind of wasn't expecting you to arrive so soon, usually I have everything handled by the time people show up, but you came in and that was super heroic." Francel had only met Nijoh'ir briefly before but the Miqo'te's kindness and sense of humor had led him to believe he and Haurchefant would strike off well and it seems he was right if the looks they keep giving the other were any clue.

Haurchefant shakes his head, “I couldn’t very well leave you to fight a dragon on your own, could I?”

Nijoh’ir shrugs his shoulder, “I mean I’ve fought primals before, what’s a dragon ya know?” His eyes are bright, and as Haurchefant turns to look to Francel for support he could see him soften just slightly, a hint of almost longing creeping in as he looks at Haurchefant.

“I’m grateful to you both,” Francel picks the most neutral answer, once more he owes Haurchefant his life. Nijoh’ir seems unconcerned, as if this is a debt he will never dream of claiming, more excited by having fought side by side with Haurchefant “You two made a good team.” They had, Nijoh’ir’s arrows had torn through the dragon’s wings easily, bringing it down for Haurchefant to fight easier, Nijoh’ir’s speed allowing him to dart around and help overwhelm it and keep the heretics off Haurchefant.

Nijoh’ir’s ears twitch and he dips his head, “thank you. You’re okay right?” he tilts his head and glances over his shoulder with narrowed eyes in the direction of Witchdrop.

“I will be,” Francel assures him, “mostly just shaken.”

“Then you must stay for hot cocoa, both of you,” Haurchefant looks to Nijoh’ir, who hesitates.

“I, uh, I think Alphinaud will want to go as soon as possible but-” he cuts himself off and smiles, “I’d love to.”

Francel can’t see Haurchefant’s face but he knows his friend is beaming, Nijoh’ir bounds ahead, snow kicked up by his boots gleaming in the light of the rising moon, Francel takes the chance to look to his friend.

“He seems to like you,” he remarks, Haurchefant gives him a hesitant smile.

“You think so?”

“The Nijoh’ir I met was stiff as a statue and as formal as a servant,” Francel remarks, watching as Nijoh’ir stops up ahead to seem to breath in the cold wind, face tilted to the breeze, “that he seems this much more relaxed is a credit to you I believe.”

Haurchefant’s smile only grows, “I’m happy to call him a friend.”

“I’m sure,” Francel says in a tone that makes Haurchefant shoot him a dirty look. He simply grins back, happy to have this. Grateful to Haurchefant and Nijoh’ir that he has been spared, given more time with his best friend. Time to tease him and see him have some well-earned happiness, however fleeting.

Nijoh’ir waits for them, a strange look on his face, as though he’s smelled something unpleasant. Francel looks to him in concern before he speaks.

“I can smell the dragon’s blood on the wind,” he says and looks over his shoulder, “we should hurry before scavengers come for the carcass.”

“You can smell that?” Francel can’t smell anything of the sort but Nijoh’ir nods.

“Yeah, can’t you, you know, taste it?” he tilts his head curiously, “it’s heavy and rusty on the wind.”

Francel and Haurchefant shake their heads, Nijoh’ir’s eyes narrow in confusion.

“Huh. Must be a Miqo’te thing.” He twitches his ears, “I knew people were confused when I did that, didn’t realize you couldn’t also taste the air.”

“Taste the air?” Haurchefant repeats and Nijoh’ir makes the face again, you realize he’s stopped breathing for a few moments.

“I kind of hold it in my mouth, you know, taste it.”

Francel and Haurchefant shake their heads, Nijoh’ir simply shrugs. “Either way, scavengers or worse, bigger dragons, will be coming for it.”

Haurchefant makes a noise of agreement and Francel is more than happy to let him lead the way back to his office and out of the cold.

“Oh!” He says as they enter and immediately a pair of rather large kittens bound of to them, “what’s this?”

“Nijoh’ir, your charges appear to have missed you,” Haurchefant says fondly as Nijoh’ir drops to the floor to pet them.

Francel sees the warmth in his friend’s eyes and knows it is not only for the kittens. Which he suspects might in fact be Couerl Kittens.

Nijoh’ir offers him a black kitten which Francel accepts carefully, the kitten blinks wide green eyes up at him.

“That’s Mischief,” Nijoh’ir says brightly, “this one’s Fi.” The spotted kitten seems happy in her owner’s arms, but Mischief is unconcerned to be held by Francel, who makes his way to the war table to have a seat. Nijoh’ir settles in a nearby chair, stroking and cooing over Fi, while Haurchefant steps out to get their drinks.

Francel looks around, the soldiers are begging to retire for the night and are largely trusted by Haurchefant, “so, you plan to recover your airship?”

Nijoh’ir nods and smiles faintly, “don’t worry, I’ll be around a little while longer though if you need someone to vouch for what happened tonight.”

Francel shakes his head, “will you be staying in Camp Dragonhead?”

“That depends, but I don’t think so. We’ll probably be hoping to get back to The Waking Sands as soon as possible so we’ll move on.” Nijoh’ir sighs at that, “I think I like the snow over the sand though.”

The door opens, bringing in a cold burst of air and a grinning Haurchefant, who sets the drinks before them. Nijoh’ir eagerly reaches for his, setting Fi on the table to do so. Francel sets Mischief down and watches him wander over to bat at a carved dragon.

“He’s quite the brave warrior,” Haurchefant jokes and glances to Nijoh’ir, “you must be quite proud to have a ward that takes after you so.”

Oh, he is smitten and Francel almost chokes on his drink as he realizes just how bad his friend has it. Nijoh’ir laughs, ears twitching as he does and smiles at Haurchefant.

“Maybe I should leave them with you then, let you turn them into knights.” He scratches his finger on the wood and both kittens whirl, eyes wide and crouching, ready to hunt.

“You’re not leaving tonight, are you?” Haurchefant asks with a worried look, “after such a fight, you should be sure to rest. Rushing ahead for the sake of it is foolhardy.”

Nijoh’ir huffs and smiles, “Alphinaud is sixteen and eager to prove himself.” His ears flatten as he drinks, “with luck he passed out before we got back and isn’t pacing around the courtyard waiting for news so he can put his next big plan into action.” He seems almost fond, there’s a warmth there though Francel wonders if it’s just his imagination that he seems warmer when speaking about Haurchefant. Perhaps it is his own wishful thinking that his friend’s feelings are returned.

Nijoh’ir turns to Francel now, “not to be rude, but why would the heretics target you? Are you heir to your family?” His ears flick curiously, “is it a grudge or something?”

“Likely to sow the seeds of discord among the houses,” Haurchefant answers for him, “it could’ve been any house chosen.”

“Ease of target mayhap?” Francel suggests, unsure his friend’s answer is entirely right. He does agree it was to sow discord, but he doubts he was chosen at random. “You best watch yourself Haurchefant.” It could easily be Fortempts they target next. Haurchefant’s eyes darken and Francel wonders if his friend feels he could even be a target. The old hurt seems to be back with the simple comment, and Francel wishes he had not been the one to bring it back.

“Yeah, you kind of made a target of yourself,” Nijoh’ir blessedly misunderstands, “like it was pretty clear the inquisitor wanted me gone, but the two of us are the ones that cleared Francel’s name. Get me on my airship and out of here and have you slip and tragically fall off a cliff or something and the heretics could try again.”

Francel’s gut clenches at that but Haurchefant smiles, “are your thoughts always so grim my friend?”

Nijoh’ir huffs, “nah but I’d hate to hear something bad happened to you. Either of you.” He quickly adds, ears flattening and Francel smiles to himself.

Fi and Mischief are tussling near the end of the table, play fighting and Francel envies how innocently they bat at each other. Nijoh’ir reaches out to stop them from falling off the table right as Haurchefant does the same.

Francel can see the moment their fingers touch, even blocked by the kittens though it is. Nijoh’ir’s ears shoot straight up and Haurchefant gains an ilm in height due to how ramrod straight his back goes. The kittens break apart and bound away while the two pull their hands back, Nijoh’ir’s ears flat as he stares at the kittens as though they can’t see his face growing red and Haurchefant has never been more entranced by a cup of hot cocoa. Francel leans forward, eager to see who will break the silence first. He suspects Haurchefant, he knows him too well, knows that such a confirmation of _something_ his friend will not allow to pass without remark.

Sure enough Haurchefant turns to Nijoh’ir, to speak, when the door is thrown open. Francel is given but a moment to wonder why there is a child standing int the doorway before he barges over to Nijoh’ir. The rapid-fire questions he asks make it clear that this is the aforementioned Alphinaud.

Haurchefant looks like it was cold water rather than a cold wind that struck his face when Alphinaud came in. He politely gives directions to the witness he found and Nijoh’ir quickly grabs his kittens to put in a bag.

“Thank you, Lord Haurchefant,” he dips his head while Alphinaud waits by the door, he reminds Francel of Emmanellain in some ways, the arrogant impatience and clear displeasure that one such as him should be held up, traits he finds more forgivable in a sixteen year old that does not constantly harass his sister however.

Nijoh’ir and Haurchefant finish their exchange quickly, Nijoh’ir throws back the last of his hot cocoa, says good-bye to them both and is gone.

“Is he always that much of a whirlwind?” Francel asks and Haurchefant’s grins is nothing but besotted.

“Not always however, it has been a lively past few days.” Haurchefant leans back and turns to Francel, curious, “how are you holding up my friend?”

“Now that I am out of the cold I am doing better,” Francel wraps his hands around his mug, feeling the last of the remaining warmth soak into his palms.

“When things settle down, I shall have to invite both you and Nijoh’ir to a dinner to thank the two of you for your kindness.”

“You need not repay me for this,” Haurchefant smiles at him reassuringly, ever the knight in shining armor and Francel feels a rush of gratitude to have a friend as loyal and true as him.

What he says though is, “you’re too humble, Lord Haurchefant. However, I shall let you turn down a chance at dinner with Nijoh’ir.”

“ _Francel!”_


End file.
